


Priorities

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Q, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond's priorities, while on a mission with Q, are clearly different than Q's.</p><p>Yet, they both want a similar goal: to protect the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the 'Canon-Typical Violence' tag applies especially to the first chapter, and that there are also mentions of blood.

_“Keep your fucking head down!”_

Bond didn’t check to see if Q obeyed, just turned back and fired the machine gun at the line of guards charging towards them. Tossing the gun aside when the clip ran empty, he reached for the next one, snatching it up off the ground as he fell back to use the same overturned table as a barrier. He barely registered Q next to him, curled up with a jacket sleeve covering his nose to defend himself from the thick coppery smell of spilled blood around the two of them. After surviving a fall from a train and down a waterfall, Bond would be _damned_ if he died now, cornered like a trapped rat in the dead terrorist’s study.

He couldn’t risk losing Q either.

_I will happily risk insubordination next time Mallory demands that Q goes out to the field, just to keep Q safe._

A quick glance to Q showed that he’d found a dropped gun of his own, and was cradling his slim laptop case as he checked the clip in a methodical way, not wasting precious time as he picked up a few stray, unused bullets and slipping them into place. Q spared him a quick nod before shifting into a crouch, prepared to turn around and start shooting the moment Bond was out of ammunition again.

_On my mark._

Q nodded once before bowing his head in an attempt to mentally prepare himself.

Bond turned his attention back to the gunmen who were still firing at them, carefully picking off those he could still see—some were now hiding—before attempting to rout the others out for easier targets.

A flicker of abrupt movement out of the corner of his eye, and he tensed, turning right as Q _slammed_ him in the ribs with a shoulder. A grunt followed by a _bang,_ and Bond twisted to land on his back so that Q lay out on top of him with the gun extended. Bond turned and fired his own gun at the black-clothed gunman that had appeared out of what Bond suspected was a bolt hole; the wall had opened slightly to reveal a door.

The ambusher somehow ducked the near pointblank shot and tried to fire again, but Bond’s next bullet caught him in the forehead and pitched him backwards into the passage. Bond then grabbed Q’s collar and _shoved_ him forward, turning again to keep firing back at the first set of gunmen as he backed up into the bolt hole, careful to use his own body to block Q’s feeble attempts at escape from the approaching guards.

The second he had a lull in the gunfire, he twisted around and effortlessly scooped Q up into a bridal hold, ignoring Q’s indignant protests. He used a foot to kick the bolt hole door closed and then made his way down the passage, carefully stepping around the corpse near the entrance before remaining as quiet as possible. The tunnel itself was lit, and for good measure; Bond swore softly when they approached what appeared a staircase that twisted out of sight, most likely leading to the manor grounds just outside.

“James?”

Q’s soft whisper echoed loudly in the tunnel. “What is it? Where were you hit?” Bond asked quietly, kneeling down and propping Q up as he searched frantically for the wound. Memories of kneeling in a chapel, with another MI6 administrator that he held dear, threatened to overwhelm him, but he shook his head almost absently. “ _Q.”_

“What?” Q murmured, shaking himself awake as Bond forced the jacket edges aside to get a better look. “Oh, right, forgot about that-”

“You _forgot_ getting _shot?_ ” Bond asked incredulously as he looked up at Q for a moment.

“You picked me up without warning me! _Of course_ I forgot!” Q said irritably as Bond located the gun wound: the blood centered on the side of Q’s ribs, leaving Bond silently praying that it hadn’t hit any organs inside. He leaned forward, sticking a hand into Q’s trouser pockets for the distress beacon he knew that Q carried on him whenever he went out on the field. Q blinked, frowning as he lightly touched the wound even as Bond tore fabric off his suit jacket for an attempted tourniquet. “Christ, that’s a lot of blood…”

“Priorities, Q, priorities, I’m sorry I carried you without warning you,” Bond said, attempting to redirect the conversation back to his earlier escape, anything to keep Q’s mind off the blood; the other man still had disbelief written across his face as he tried to poke the wound, which Bond gently discouraged by swatting his hand away. “Tell me about Missy’s latest antics,” he said, catching Q by surprise; Q rarely talked about his cat at work, but Bond _really_ needed to take his mind off the immediate injuries so Bond could tend to him without distraction.

Q frowned, closed his eyes as he grunted in pain when Bond began to clean the wound, and then began to speak, voice faltering with every word.

Bond tried his best not to worry.

Or to let it show.


	2. Chapter 2

Q was close to non-responsive by the time they made it outdoors.

Bond gingerly laid him on the ground behind a wall of tall, thick shrubs that obscured the gravel paths in the gardens behind the manor. Q’s face was unnaturally pale and his chest fluttered too rapidly for Bond’s comfort. Bond knelt and tore what was left of the shirt and jacket, silently reveling in Q’s mewled protests; a sound, no matter soft, told him that Q was at least still conscious and _aware_ enough to react to what was happening to him.

“James…James, maybe you shouldn’t bother,” Q said finally, his voice slurring a bit as he tried to weakly bat Bond’s hands away from where he was lifting Q to tie the makeshift bandage around Q’s ribs. “James…”

“You’re the Quartermaster for a reason, Q, and that means you’re the best we have,” Bond said, focusing on the knot. “The bullet’s stil­l in the wound, so you’re not bleeding as much as you could be. And when you’re better, you’re going to tell me why the _fuck_ you put yourself in front of the fucking bullet like that when you _know_ that you’re important to the administration.”

A cough, and Bond propped Q up against the shrubs. “I…I could tell you now…may not get a chance later,” Q finally mumbled, allowing his head to lean to the side. “May not want to tell you later.”

“Then you can lord it over me later, but don’t die.” Bond pulled out another piece of shredded clothing and began tying that around Q’s torso as well. “R won’t forgive you, since he’ll have to deal with me next.”

“James…”

“Not to mention that M will be angry that he has to reshuffle your department and hire more techs to make up for the new spots for when R takes over as Q and hires a new second-in-command,” Bond said, continuing to talk as though Q hadn’t said a word. “Bottom line is when I say to duck your head, you do as I say and leave the stupid heroics at home or in the movies.”

“James, behind you.”

Bond didn’t need telling twice.

Without looking, he reached for the gun in his holster and fired twice at the guard that had tried to sneak up on him. Q’s eyes widened as Bond put the gun back and continued to apply pressure to the injury. “Kidding…aside…I really think…I should…tell you…” he began, obediently stopping when Bond put a hand on his mouth.

“Tell me when you get out of Medical,” Bond said firmly before moving and cradling Q against him, to make Q more comfortable and give Bond a better position to rest him against. Q adjusted himself a moment later, snuggling closer to Bond in a way that was more intimate than Bond would have guessed to ever receive from Q. Joking about marriage propositions aside, Bond had grown rather fond of Q over the two years since their first mission together at Skyfall even if he never showed it or indicated it in any way; personal attachment was lethal and poisonous to the non-agent individual, and Bond preferred a happy, friendly Q than a hurt Q. Brushing a few dark strands of hair back, he rested two fingers underneath Q’s jaw, silently counting the beats.

_Not enough for sixty seconds. And dropping._

“Q, tell me something else. Tell me about you,” Bond said, reaching into the earlier pocket and checking to make sure the beacon was working. The little light was blinking green, but he had no idea what the hell that meant. “Q-”

“There’s nothing interesting about me, Bond, there really isn’t even though I say otherwise,” Q said, shrugging helplessly with one shoulder. His eyes were now closed, and his breaths were evening out again. His weight seemed lighter than Bond would have guessed, warm through several layers of clothes but frail. He turned his head as though to nuzzle, but fell still, his chest moving slower even as his eyes fluttered.

“Q?” Bond said, frowning when he realized that the pulse was slowing. “ _Q!”_

Perhaps it was his yells that led the MI6 medevac towards the two of them, Q still barely clinging to consciousness as five medics and three agents appeared. Bond could have sworn it was his imagination, but for a moment, he thought Q tried to reach for him even as the medics pried him out of Bond’s arms.

He barely acknowledged the orange shock blanket they gave him.

He didn’t even notice the two medics coaxing him to his feet and towards the van that would take him to the safe house; Q would be in another van for the nearest hospital.

_My mission was to protect Q._

_I should not have been charged with something we all know I fail at regularly._


	3. Chapter 3

Q survived despite the odds stacking against him.

 _Mandate. I am here because of my orders to protect him, no other reason._ Bond sipped the watery coffee and nearly choked on the bitter taste. He still swallowed it with a grimace, mostly because the woman serving it to him had been making eyes at him all night—all he usually needed as an invitation—and he wanted to stay on her good side in order to maintain the assurance that he would not be removed from Q’s side. Three medics remained present as well, due to Q’s status as a department head and the inability to move him to a secure facility just yet.

“James?”

A soft whisper, but Bond caught it nonetheless. He glanced down to find Q watching him, eyes unfocused from the lack of glasses. “James…?” he whispered, hand creeping long the bedspread towards James for some confirmation of the agent’s presence. Wires from the IV trailed along behind the movement, still visible against Q’s hands despite the near relation in color to each other.

“Right here. I can call one of the medics to check you over,” Bond said, starting to stand up in order to walk towards the door.

“No, please wait. I wanted to talk to you first,” Q said, voice raspy from disuse.

Bond hesitated, and then sat back down, watching Q carefully. “You’ll survive, if that’s what you’re wondering. Once you’re feeling better and more stabilized, the doctors will move you back to London in a jet, I’m afraid,” he said, watching Q’s grimace. “It’s faster than a train and M wants you back in the safety of the fold, so to speak.”

“Will you be coming with me on the jet?”

“My mission is to ensure your safety, so yes, I will accompany you on the helicopter,” Bond said, mentally flinching at reciting his mission objective, the failure of which sat in the hospital bed beside him.

“And I got hurt because of something _I_ did, so you can stop flaying yourself over it,” Q said, frowning as he made eye contact with Bond.

“I think that ‘ensuring your safety’ includes keeping you safe from stupid things that _you_ do,” Bond said, turning to face Q. “It was just another bullet, I would have recovered in time, and be back on the field with one more scar.”

Q pressed his mouth into a thin line and narrowed his eyes, leaving Bond with the impression that if he could, he would have smacked Bond for the comment. “No, you would have been _dead_ because the gunman had _plenty_ of time to aim and shoot you in the heart without you even bloody well _knowing_ ,” he growled, struggling to push himself up into a sitting position. “Christ Bond, are you always this cavalier with your life? Did it ever occur to you that, oh, I don’t know, I pushed you to the side because _I didn’t want to see you harmed for once in your goddamn life?_ ”

Bond stared at him, momentarily startled into silence. Then he leaned forward and said in a soft voice, “That’s how it is on the field, and you are the priority here, not me. All they have to do is bring up another agent to replace me, but you have to train your successor, and from what I understand, it’s not easy nor are you finished.”

“You’re not exactly expendable either,” Q pointed out quietly, scowl deepening when Bond frowned in confusion. “When you disappeared in Istanbul, M was ranting about how difficult it was going to be training a new double-oh and she decided to give you six months to return before declaring you M.I.A. That, by the way, would have taken a lovely chunk out of your overdue vacation time. Training candidates takes time that MI6 doesn’t have.” Shaking his head, Q whispered, “ _You are not expendable_ , and if I hear you say something otherwise again, I will personally deal with you myself.” He lay back against his pillows and said, “Not to mention I still had my own, selfish reason for helping you in the first place.”

“The one that you’re not going to tell me?” Bond asked, recalling their conversation in the gardens.

Q shrugged. “Perhaps,” he whispered, Bond unconsciously leaning forward to hear him better. “I did agree to that, but trust me, I would happily do it all over again if placed back in time at that exact moment.”

Bond nearly pointed out that he was living on borrowed time as it was, but then remained quiet, remembering Q’s warning from earlier. He sighed, and then said, “Perhaps I can trick it out of you later.” He was quiet for another moment, and then mumbled, “Thank you for watching my back, at least.”

He almost missed the soft smile on Q’s face as Q’s eyes closed so he could rest, but he definitely didn’t miss the way that Q reached out for him and curled his hand gently around Bond’s own.


End file.
